Chapter 425 Chili Pepper

Chapter 425: Chili Peppers

Three days later, Fujiwara Tainaka, who had been imprisoned in Licheng, vanished without a trace. At the same time, the Japanese forces that should have been in Penglai silently abandoned Weihai and surrounded Licheng.

"Those Japanese are indeed cunning! The number surrounding Licheng is fifty thousand more than when they fought General Yi!" A general in the war council slammed his palm on the table, causing the teacup on top to jump and spill half its contents.

Fifty thousand men—not too many, not too few. On a battlefield that could change in an instant, that number could shift the entire tide of war.

"Our grain supplies within the city aren't enough. General Zhao just left to borrow grain from the water transport authorities, and right when we're short a commander, those Japanese come knocking."

"Those Japanese have probably been watching Licheng's weaknesses for a while now. There's no telling if they have spies inside the city."

"Those short islanders fight dirty and hit hard, fully prepared and playing by no rules at all. They're nothing like turncoats such as the Mohe."

"That Fujiwara Tainaka disappearing must mean he sent word to the outside. Otherwise, how could they have arrived so precisely, right when General Zhao was away from the city!"

The war room buzzed with debate as the generals shared their views. Not all who led troops were simple brutes—in fact, every one of these men had earned his rank through skill and was no ordinary figure. They quickly devised a plan to hold off the Japanese soldiers while awaiting reinforcements from Weihai.

Pei Anyuan, organizing his medicine chest in the corner, was distracted. After the generals received their orders and filed out, he picked up his chest and asked Qin Jiao, "Are we going to lose this battle?"

The question was blunt. Qin Jiao, who had been picking up his blade with his back turned, paused and gave an evasive answer. "Perhaps."

Pei Anyuan had been on the battlefield in Qinzhou, but Annam was a trivial matter compared to Yu. This was clearly different from the fierce, meticulously planned assault of the Japanese. He knew what would happen if they lost, and that Qin Jiao, as the main commander, could very well die.

"Anyuan, if Licheng truly falls, I won't flee." Qin Jiao said calmly.

Before he ever set foot on a battlefield, his father had told him and his sister: before charging into battle, one must not harbor a single trace of retreat in their heart. To press forward fearlessly was the fate of a commander. Behind them lay the emperor's mandate, the brothers who followed them into battle, and the countless citizens of Yu.

"I know. I'll be right there with you." Pei Anyuan said earnestly, believing his answer was perfectly adequate and that Qin Jiao should be moved.

And indeed, Qin Jiao embraced him. The warmth of his body was intense, yet his expression was numb with pain.

If he died, would Pei Anyuan even care?

The battle ended faster than expected. The Japanese had only surrounded the city for a day before the gates were breached—so easily that their commander grew suspicious. It was only when Pei Anyuan stood behind the city gate and personally addressed the Japanese commander in their own language that the commander's suspicions were assuaged.

"The city is ready to welcome your forces. I've also obtained Licheng's defense map and the granary locations. To avoid complications, we need to fully occupy Licheng before the Weihai garrison can send reinforcements."

The soldiers guarding the city showed no particular surprise at Pei Anyuan speaking Japanese, only restrained resentment and anger—which made the act all the more convincing.

Pei Anyuan's status among the Japanese was unusual. They spoke to him with a degree of respect, yet they did not follow his orders.

The Japanese commander had his own plans. Cautiously, he sent an advance cavalry unit into the city to probe for traps. Meanwhile, he positioned cannons outside the gates, ready to bombard the city at the first sign of trouble.

Seeing that the enemy wouldn't take the bait, Qin Jiao showed no great disappointment. He straightened up, let go of Pei Anyuan, and without looking back, led his soldiers charging down from the city walls.

The war drums sounded. The moment the enemy's advance troops entered the city, they were all taken down. The Japanese forces waiting outside found themselves surrounded on both sides, and General Zhao, who was supposed to be off fetching grain, had returned with his men to join the attack.

The Japanese soldiers, having fallen into a trap, saw their morale plummet. Their fighting style was flexible, and seeing no advantage to be gained, they attempted to retreat to their stronghold in Penglai. But by then, Yi Hongfei had already cut off their escape route, seizing Penglai and trapping the Japanese reinforcements at sea.

With Yi Hongfei and Qin Jiao attacking from both sides, half of the Japanese forces remaining in Licheng were annihilated, and the rest were captured.

"I'll handle the rest. Fujiwara Tainaka is Japanese nobility, so you may need to escort him back to Shengjing yourself. According to him, your husband... is the child of the Japanese emperor, lost among the common people, brought back to Qinzhou by a merchant ship from the northern seas." Yi Hongfei said no more, patted Qin Jiao on the shoulder, and rode off, his silver spear tracing a graceful arc through the air.

Qin Jiao wiped the sweat from his brow, watched Yi Hongfei gallop away, silver spear in hand, for a moment, then turned and walked heavily back into Licheng.

"You knew who I was all along, so you deliberately kept me close?" Pei Anyuan, imprisoned in the dungeon beneath Licheng's government office, sat on a pile of straw and demanded of Qin Jiao.

Qin Jiao opened the cell door and stepped inside, his fingers closing around Pei Anyuan's neck—gently, even trembling slightly. "I gave you chances. More than once. If you had ever been honest with me, you wouldn't have ended up like this."

Triggered by his gesture, Pei Anyuan's psychological defenses suddenly collapsed. His usual gentle, considerate demeanor was gone as he screamed until his throat nearly tore and bled. "Someone like you, born into nobility, raised with every privilege—how could you understand the suffering I endured! Did I have a choice? Did anyone give me a choice?!"

Red veins crawled across his eyes, and his tears added a tragic edge to his frenzy. "I grew up in Yu, following my father as he practiced medicine in Qinzhou. Until I was eight, I was happy. But then Fujiwara Tainaka found me. He told me my name wasn't Pei Anyuan—it was Abe Seigen."

Qin Jiao closed his eyes, his fingers tracing back and forth over Pei Anyuan's neck several times, unable to bring himself to do it. He pulled a black pill from his robes and brought it to Pei Anyuan's lips.

Pei Anyuan saw it. He opened his mouth and swallowed it, then began speaking incoherently. "My father is dead. He died because of me. The military doctor in the Qinzhou camp wasn't my real father."

Tears streamed from Qin Jiao's eyes as well. His arms went rigid, and he pulled Pei Anyuan into his embrace with every ounce of strength he had. The veins on the back of his hands bulged. When he spoke, it felt like his heart was being crushed to pieces in his chest, his voice trembling with pain. "Anyuan, in your next life, don't choose to be Japanese. Even if you have their blood, it doesn't matter—just don't go back to Japan."

Blood seeped from the corner of Pei Anyuan's mouth. His heart was filled with regret and hatred, his eyes bloodshot, nearly bleeding. "How could I be Japanese? Why did it have to be me! Let me be a beggar, even an orphan—anything! Why did I have to be Japanese?!"

Their relationship had never been pure from the very beginning. Qin Jiao, envious of Song Tingzhou and Meng Wan, had recklessly broken off his engagement in order to marry Pei Anyuan. It wasn't just Qin Jiao who had given Pei Anyuan chances—the emperor, the empress, the Marquis Zhongyi and his wife—hadn't they all given Qin Jiao a choice as well?

But Qin Jiao refused to compromise. He gambled again and again, and in the end, he lost again and again.

Emerging from the dungeon, he carried Pei Anyuan's body. Gone was the arrogant recklessness he once wore as the Marquis Heir; only exhaustion remained. The autumn wind blew through the streets of Licheng, stirring up dead leaves with a wailing sound, as if playing a dirge for this brief, twisted love.

Qin Jiao buried Pei Anyuan with his own hands, and with him, buried the self that had once believed a single blaze of courage could rewrite their ending.

The Marquis Zhongyi's household held more than just him—there was his sister, his nephew. For their sake, he had to be strong.

—

When the victory report from the southeastern border reached Shengjing, Meng Wan was enjoying hot pot at Muquan Manor. After all these years, he finally got to eat chili peppers!

Chen Zhenlong had planted a thousand mu of sweet potatoes in the imperial manor that spring, along with several overseas crops like chili peppers. A true merchant at heart, Chen Zhenlong had forced himself to become a farmer, knowing his family's fortune and future glory depended on it. When Meng Wan saw him the day before yesterday, he almost didn't recognize the man turned black as charcoal.

Fortunately, the results were impressive. The sweet potato yield per mu was even slightly higher than potatoes. Under the careful cultivation of Chen Zhenlong and the other imperial manor farmers, the yield had reached 1,500 jin per mu. Moreover, unlike potatoes which required some soil fertility, sweet potatoes produced stable harvests even on poor land, and they didn't compete with staple crops for planting season—they could be intercropped between harvests.

Wen Zhao was naturally overjoyed by this, but since he was always scheming to reduce the power of feudal lords, he would never casually grant a count title like the previous emperor. Instead, he personally bestowed upon Chen Zhenlong a plaque reading "Merit That Fills the Granaries," which could be passed down through generations, along with a fifth-rank official post, and gifts of silver, gold, cloth, grain, and numerous items from the imperial household.

His descendants were granted the privilege of attending official schools regardless of merchant status, and were exempt from corvée labor. For five generations, no matter what heinous crime was committed, punishment would not extend to family—only the offender himself would be executed.

Chen Zhenlong returned home in an imperial carriage. Wen Zhao had called him "Lord Chen," and that alone made his entire life worth it. He hadn't thought much of it that day—when he discovered the crop seeds, he'd only thought the plants were remarkable and might help the poor in his hometown. But after a year at the imperial manor, a surge of ambition welled up in his chest.

If all of Yu could eat these sweet potatoes, and in times of poverty and hunger find a steamed sweet potato to fill their bellies, he would have no regrets in this life!

Meng Wan picked up a slice of cooked lamb, rolled it in the sesame oil and garlic paste, and popped it into his mouth, squinting with satisfaction. The spicy kick of chili instantly ignited his taste buds, nearly bringing tears to his eyes.

In his past life, he never thought he loved spicy food much, but now one bite was pure ecstasy.

"Father, I want more meat, and wood ear mushrooms and spinach too!"

"Uncle, I want meat too."

Meng Wan had returned to the capital and immediately picked up his son from the palace, bringing him to the manor for a few days of indulgence.

"Zhifan, go pick some more greens from outside. And more meat slices, cut thin." It was already deep autumn. The window was cracked open a sliver, the door wide, and Meng Wan, A Yan, and Tong'er were sweating profusely, beads of perspiration dotting their noses, none of them showing any sign of stopping their chopsticks.

Meng Wan fished meat from the spicy red oil pot, washing it down with iced sour plum drink, his appetite voracious.

Before long, Zhifan returned with a plate of washed bok choy and a plate of meat slices. "Fulang, Nie Fulang has come looking for you."

"You've been back in the capital for five or six days now, haven't you? Hiding in the manor eating hot pot every day?" Nie Zhiyao smelled the fragrant aroma the moment he entered and immediately changed his tune. "Good Zhifan, get me a set of chopsticks and a bowl too."

Zhifan smiled. "Yes, I'll have the kitchen add more dishes and meat. Does Nie Fulang prefer lamb or pork?"

Nie Zhiyao shrugged off his heavy outer robe and hung it on the screen. "Pork."

"How'd you track me all the way out here to the estate? I was gonna head back this afternoon," Meng Wan said, pulling a small bamboo chair near the brazier for him, while Zhi Mao laid down an extra cushion.

Nie Zhiyao sat down, gazing at the fiery red soup base and unconsciously swallowing as he caught the aroma. "Don't even get me started. I tried sending a visiting card to your place, but couldn't find the door—it ended up at my house instead."

Meng Wan had figured that with Song Tingzhou making such a big splash coming back, his place would be anything but quiet, so he'd ducked out to Muquan Estate to chill for a few days. He hadn't counted on those folks tracking him down at Nie Zhiyao's place.

Song Tingzhou's trip south had made him a ton of enemies, and he'd chopped quite a few heads off too. There were only a few big shots at the top, and he'd nearly lopped off a third of the nobles in several major prefectures.

Even while he was swinging the blade, memorials from all over were pouring into Shengjing, calling for his head. But when Song Tingzhou dealt with the Luo family in Lin'an, Wen Zhao, who'd been turning a blind eye to those memorials all along, suddenly made his move, demoting thirty-one officials in one fell swoop, including several fourth-rank officials from the Six Ministries in Shengjing.

This caught the officials tied to the big clans completely flat-footed. They'd busted their butts passing the imperial exams, finally clawed their way up the ladder, and before they could enjoy a few easy years, they got demoted and exiled over those marriage connections. In no time, the whole Shengjing bureaucracy was in a panic, and nobody dared to stick their neck out anymore.

Anyone who'd impeached Song Tingzhou in court, or had a relative or friend who did, sent their wives or husbands to drop off memorials at the Song mansion once he was back. But Meng Wan had snuck off to the estate the very night he hit the capital, and Song Tingzhou was too swamped to see a soul.

Stuck at home and fuming, anyone with a tie to the imperial merchant Nie family had no choice but to go through Nie Zhiyao.

Nie Zhiyao picked up a slice of freshly cooked pork, dipped it in the oil sauce, and said while eating, "You think hiding out here at the estate keeps things peaceful? Everyone in Shengjing knows Lord Song came back with a huge feather in his cap. Folks looking to suck up, butter up, or fish for info are swarming like flies on shit. But no, you just left him to clean up the mess on his own while you kick back and have a blast here."

"My Zhou Lang told me not to sweat it," Meng Wan said, standing up after eating and stretching. "Do whatever I want."

He was dying to check on the sweet potatoes, so he'd headed to the imperial estate to see Chen Zhenlong as soon as he got back. The sweet potatoes had been harvested ages ago, and Chen Zhenlong had hung around just to see Meng Wan one last time before taking off, hoping he'd taste the ones he'd grown with his own hands.

Nie Zhiyao had warmed up from the meal and took a sip of the fruit wine Zhi Mao passed him. "You might not give a damn about anyone else, but Ru Niang's about to get engaged. Aren't you gonna go back and check on her?"

"Damn, the Shen family moves fast—already locking in an engagement?" Meng Wan said in surprise.

Nie Zhiyao spoke bluntly in front of Meng Wan, cutting to the chase. "Out of all the eligible young ladies and gents in Shengjing, Ru Niang's the oldest. Not to mention Young Master Shen's got the Shen family behind him, and his talent and character put him at the top of this generation of young official brats. Half the capital's got their eyes on him. Even if the Shens aren't in a rush, the Gus are sweating bullets."

"That's fair," Meng Wan said, though he knew some inside scoop Nie Zhiyao didn't. After Gao Siyu, the Provincial Administration Commissioner of Yingtian Prefecture, was beheaded, the emperor intended to have Shen Chongshan take over the position. But his credentials weren't enough to jump several ranks, so he'd have to bide his time for a few years and accumulate merit.

The Shen family was at its peak, and countless sought marriage alliances with them. As Nie Zhiyao said, Young Master Shen had no shortage of well-matched girls, yet Shen Chongshan still favored the Gu family, and there were many considerations behind that.

That afternoon, Meng Wan entered the city with the two children and, sure enough, encountered several other families' wives and husbands along the way, all trying to strike up conversations.

Meng Wan didn't put on airs and spoke politely, but extracting any information from him was impossible.

Nie Zhiyao parted ways with him halfway. "Fei Geer is getting out of Yin Family's private school soon. I'll go pick her up and come find you at your place tomorrow."

"Go ahead," Meng Wan waved him off. "I brought some nice fabrics back from Suzhou for you. Huang Ye should have them organized. You can take them home directly."

"Thanks then!" Nie Zhiyao said with a smile, letting down the carriage curtain.

When his carriage arrived at the Yin residence, he found that Lezheng Qi had already picked up Fei Geer, and the father and son were on horseback.

"I thought you'd stay overnight at Meng Fulang's estate. Why are you back so soon?" Lezheng Qi lifted his son onto the carriage and handed his reins to a servant, riding with his husband and beloved child.

"He'd planned to go home today anyway. I just tagged along for a hotpot meal. Wan Geer knows how to eat—that pot had chili peppers from Luzon, spicy enough to make your hands and feet tingle, really invigorating. He even gave me some. We should use them for our own hotpot sometime." Nie Zhiyao brought over a bamboo basket from the carriage to show Lezheng Qi. Lifting the cloth cover, it was indeed a full basket of dried red chilies.

Lezheng Qi's deep-set eyes reflected Nie Zhiyao's gentle face, and he teased with a smile, "My husband is the head of the household, so of course you decide what we eat."

Nie Zhiyao nearly laughed in exasperation. "You say that so nicely, but you don't even bother showing up for your official duties. All you do is shuttle the kids around or buy flowers all day. Have you really turned yourself into our family's son-in-law?"

With his grudges set aside, Lezheng Qi felt content with a husband and child. He lounged lazily against Nie Zhiyao, his long lashes casting a shadow, his lips redder than a woman's rouged ones. "My husband has a knack for making money, so I can only rely on you to support me."

"Fei Geer is watching. Can you be serious?"

"Fei Geer is old enough. Let's find him a husband and marry him off. I think A Yan isn't bad, and Tong'er, a few years younger, would work too."

"Watch your mouth! Fei Geer is just a child. Most people keep their kids at home for a few more years, and you're already talking about marrying him off!"

"Then we could take in a son-in-law instead. I'll look after their kids."

"Lezheng Qi!"